


Like the Finest Gold

by Cedar



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Erotica, Marauders' Era, The Quidditch Pitch: School Days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-26
Updated: 2006-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-27 09:47:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10806657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cedar/pseuds/Cedar
Summary: When your enemy learns your deepest secret, something that could cost your dearest friends their wands, you have no choice but to submit to his blackmail. But what happens when he awakens parts of you, searing and dangerous, that only leave you wanting more of his torture?





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Many thanks to H.F., the bestest BDSM beta around. This fic was written between GoF and OotP, and Lucius Malfoy is written here as a MWPP contemporary.  


* * *

You had to believe him, believe that he would spare you. You knew that. You had no other choice. All you could do now was wait, standing in front of him in the center of his library. As easily as he could bring you to his lips, he could leave you for dead among dusty, brittle volumes of parchment.  


He had the strength and the motivation to do either. You knew that, too. You hated the power he exercised over you, the way he consumed your thoughts. He was the one aspect of your life you couldn't control.   


You came to him because he held your secret. But wasn't it something more?   


Just inches from your face, he stared into your eyes, and you stopped breathing in anticipation. Strange how the prospect of sex made you feel the same way as the prospect of death. You could smell him, like spearmint and snow, and your skin began to tingle. Everything about this was wrong, evil, hot, illicit. But you couldn't stop. This had gone far beyond its simple beginnings, and admitting to anyone that this was something you wanted would be handing him victory. It would destroy your lives and your families if anyone ever knew.   


He had bruised you with that signet ring, the heavy gold one bearing the Malfoy crest. The metal, you thought, was going to cut you to the bone as he crushed your fingers between his. It wouldn't be the first time he hurt you, nor would it be the first time he'd left you with marks you secretly admired, little purple prizes from your encounters. He liked to leave those wounds, remind you of everything you weren't supposed to be.   


In your time away from him you liked to think of the beautiful rhythmic words that sounded like his name: lucid, lucent, luminescent. Did he think about you the same way, rhyming your name in his mind? Did it matter, as long as he did to you what he did with his mouth?   


How had this started, and where was it going to end?   


The Potions lab, in the fall of your seventh year. Lily dropped a glass in the kitchen the other day, and you had to cover your mouth to keep from screaming in remembrance. That sound will always haunt you, won't it? Years have passed, yet every time you hear it you're back at the beginning. Even now you can see it so clearly in your mind, and hate the way it squeezes your heart. You can feel the broken glass all over again, pricking your fingertips with its sharp edges as you cleaned the mess.   


He came into the lab while you were working late into a Friday night, trying to get over that block you had on the Dreamless Sleep potion. Yours always came out too thick, or the color of carrots, or smelling like burnt marshmallows. Damn it! Why hadn't you asked Sirius to help you? Never mind. It wouldn't have mattered anyway. He would only have approached you some other time. You'd barely heard the footsteps behind you until it was too late. The vial of chamomile you'd been holding slipped from your grasp, breaking into shards in an explosion against the stone floor.   


"My potion!"   


"That'll be the least of your worries soon enough."   


He caught your fist on its way to his face, deflecting it back to your side.   


"Feisty one, aren't you, Potter?" Why was his hand still lingering on yours?   


"What do you want, Malfoy?"   


You would never forget that smile as you jerked your hand away from his. What was he doing, touching you like that? And why did you wish that he would keep his hand there just a second longer?   


"I like the sound of that. 'What do you want, Malfoy?' You should get used to saying it."   


"Excuse me?"   


"You heard me. Get used to asking me what I want. You're going to be asking for a long time." There was that smile again, the one that he did with only one side of his mouth. He stared you down, refusing to break eye contact. It made the muscles around your spine contract in fear.   


"Because?" Where was he going with this?   


"Because from now on, I own you. You are going to do what I want, where I want, and when I want."   


"Why would I do that?"   


"Shall we say that I know a little something about you that you wouldn't want me to go telling all over?" He was close, much closer than you would have liked. You moved away from him but found the edge of the table pressing into your back. His smile grew wider as he stepped forward, knowing you had nowhere left to go.   


"I'm hardly that interesting a person."   


"On the contrary, I think Lupin, Black, and Pettigrew would say that you are a very interesting person, my... _dear_."   


Your life came to a halt. The air stopped moving and you were left choking on your words.   


"No. No! How...how did you..."   


"Just a matter of being in the right place at the right time."   


"When? Where? Prove it!"   


"Last month. Moonlight is a lot brighter than you think, Potter," he said with a wicked smile. "As for proof, are you really that dense, to think you'd never be caught? Your arrogance is really _staggering_ sometimes. You think I'm going to _rat_ you out, but I won't unless you _doggedly_ keep denying that-"   


"Nobody would ever believe you for a second. Three underage wizards becoming Animagi? You might as well tell them that Peeves is going to start teaching Charms! Do you have pictures or something?" He didn't need pictures. You had his words. He couldn't have chosen those words by coincidence.   


"Maybe I do."   


Why had you smiled, you idiot? Why was that one of the traits you hated in yourself the most, the way you laughed at grave situations? He had you. If he spoke, it could mean your expulsion from Hogwarts, not to mention what would happen to Padfoot, Wormtail, and Moony. Biting the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing in disbelief, you looked into his eyes.   


"You can't tell!"   


"I can. Don't give me reason to do so. Give me what I want, never breathe a word of it to anybody, and we'll be fine."   


"What's it going to cost me? A year of my Transfiguration homework? My dropping the Quaffle for the rest of the season?"   


"Just your pride, Potter."   


"My..."   


With a hand under your chin, he tilted your head back, the first of countless times he would command your movements. He stroked your lips, and you were thrilled at the same time you wished the floor would open and swallow you whole. The scent on his hands reached you. Something unusual and sweet and heavenly.   


"Rosewood."   


He blinked, looking unsure as to what you meant.   


"Your wand. It must be rosewood." It smelled amazing, like summer, the fragrance curling around the base of your skull.   


"Sharp senses."   


Were you supposed to say "thanks?"   


He was so close his breath condensed on your lips. Why did you feel like you would melt from the suspense, your blood a river of molten lead? You were here only because you had to be, weren't you? Your submission was the only thing that would save Sirius and Peter from having their wands snapped, the only thing that would keep Lucius from spreading the news of what you did for Remus. You hated Lucius's condescending tone, yet there was something alluring about the way he held you, delicious and dangerous. You felt clouded by his nearness, cut off from the rest of the world.   


There was another aspect to your love of breaking the rules, wasn't there? The same golden chain that bound you to your closest friends was now going to be the chain by which Lucius dangled your lives. You couldn't do what you thought he wanted you to do. It's not that Moony, Wormtail, and Padfoot weren't worth it, but there had to be something more. It was your curiosity and independence, your need to do anything you were told not to do, and his knowing how much you valued your friends and your freedom.   


You understood.   


"My pride."   


"Very good, Potter."   


He left you starving for his mouth, your chest tight from holding your breath so long. This wasn't going to be easy. You were going to spend the year, possibly longer, lying to your friends and to Lily, all for someone you hated.   


No, no, it was more than that. You were lying to protect your friends. Their safety was worth anything Lucius could take from you. But the way he made you feel...he stirred something inside you that made you want to scream. Something you couldn't live without. You loved Lily. You wanted to spend the rest of your life with her, but she had never made you feel like you were walking along a razor. She was gentle and brilliant and made you laugh, but Lucius...he was something new and intriguing.   


Everything you'd ever been taught told you that you should want anybody in your life except him. What was that feeling you got when he touched you? You weren't sure whether you wanted to kiss him or break his nose. Either way, you were supposed to ignore people like Lucius. They were not supposed to be worth your time. You were supposed to go to school, meet a nice girl, get a good job, get married, and live life as everyone expected you to. There were rules to follow, rules meant to keep you in place and guide you to this perfection.   


Rules were boring. Rules were made to be broken.   


It started with a note slipped into your bag. All it dictated was a place and time, initialed in his elegant calligraphy. You thought about not showing up, but you were never good at passive resistance. That first night, you thought you'd never make it to one in the morning. If the desire didn't kill you, Sirius would. You barely ate anything at dinner and took yourself to the library to study in solitude. You couldn't risk slipping to the other three. Peter perceived you a little too well sometimes, and the last things you needed were his questions.   


Lucius was already seated at Professor Flitwick's desk the first time he summoned you. Candles burned in every corner, and the fire...or was it your anticipation...made the room almost unbearably warm. He laughed at the load of books you were carrying. You were still trying to convince yourself that all he wanted from you were your academic abilities.   


"Don't know why you brought all those books, Potter. I'm not interested in copying your homework. Put them aside and stand in the center of the room."   


You did as he said, but silently. He was not going to get the satisfaction of your struggle. Then again, did you even want to struggle in the first place? He couldn't know that. Act like you didn't have the slightest bit of curiosity.   


"Strip."   


"What?" Forget not giving him the pleasure of your resistance; this was not what you had in mind.   


"Take off your robes."   


"No!"   


"Do it!"   


"Why?"   


"So I can be sure you're not going to hex me. You know that would be your fastest way out of this school. And with you gone, what's to stop me from going after Pettigrew?"   


No, please. Not Peter, the one whose talents did not lie in being able to defend himself. Not here, in your position. Hysteria was welling up inside you, giggles threatening to break free. Could there be a worse time to laugh? Steady yourself.   


"You wouldn't!"   


"Well, that depends on you. You know the terms of our deal."   


"How do I know you're not going to go back on what you say?"   


"I give you my word."   


"That's supposed to be my consolation? The word of a Slytherin? Yeah, that makes me feel better."   


"Potter, you frustrate me."   


"You're most welcome."   


He wasn't smiling as he turned his wand on you. "Enough of your lip."   


Your hands weak and shaking, you undressed button by button, not daring to look at him. Shoes, socks, and robes were folded over a nearby desk.   


"Are you satisfied?"   


"Almost."   


"No! I am not fulfilling whatever sick fantasy you have!" Your underwear was staying right where it was.   


"Seems to me that I'm not the only one with a so-called sick fantasy. Seems to me you're enjoying this a little more than you should," he grinned, gesturing with his wand.   


Stay calm, you told yourself. The heat rose in your cheeks, and you started mixing potions in your head to forget about the same heat rising elsewhere. Seven porcupine quills, one ounce of powdered unicorn horn...   


"Finish what you started, Potter, or the whole school is going to know about Lupin's mysterious illnesses and why you and Black and Pettigrew always sleep through Divination two days a month."   


"Everyone sleeps through Divination two days a month! Come on, you can't really expect that I've got my wand hidden on me! It's in the pocket of my robes. I'll show you," but as you moved toward the desk he shouted, enraged:   


"Strip!"   


So there you stood, naked, and shivering despite the warmth.   


"It's not cold in here. Uncross your arms."   


"What, the fact that I'm standing in front of you with my clothes five feet away isn't good enough?"   


Finally, he stood, laying his wand on top of the desk.   


"Not going to practice your curses on me, Malfoy?"   


"I curse you enough as is." He moved so he was standing to face you, robes falling around his perfectly drawn posture. "James Potter. Star student. Quidditch hero. Adored by most of Hogwarts. Mine. My...plaything."   


You wanted to spit on him, but your mouth went dry.   


"Top of his classes and bottom of the common sense pile. Thinks he's invincible."   


Breathe. Ignore his fingertips brushing your forehead as he pushed your hair out of your face.   


"Thinks he's got everyone fooled."   


Breathe. Stay steady as he took your wrists and forced them together.   


"Thinks he can ignore the way this makes him feel."   


Breathe. Resist raising your head to meet his.   


"Thinks he can live in denial of me."   


Breathe. Slow your racing heart, which he could probably feel as he aligned his chest with yours. His robes brushed your legs.   


"What's wrong? Don't like the fact that I'm right? Don't like that I can see those wheels turning in your head?"   


"Malfoy..." barely a whisper.   


"Say it, Potter."   


You wanted to say it, shout it, fall on your knees pleading. It was spinning through your head at a million miles an hour. Kiss me. Now.   


Your voice refused his command.   


"So much for bravery," he said, laughing in that sarcastic way he had perfected.   


"This has nothing to do with bravery."   


"Then why can't you speak?"   


Because I'm scared. Because I'd sell my soul to have your lips on mine. Because I hate you for making me feel this way. Because I hate the way you know what I want before I even open my mouth. Because I can't let you know any of that. Because every time I see you in the halls I think of the glass broken at my feet and how some part of me that isn't even supposed to exist is slowly awakening. All the words coursed through you at once, fighting for prominence, each one stronger than the first. The muscles in your arms tightened, but he restrained you, aware of your need for flight.   


"This is about more than just blackmail, isn't it, Malfoy?"   


"Only you have the answer to that."   


"Bastard."   


"You love it."   


"Tease."   


"A tease? Maybe, or maybe..."   


His kiss, warm and soft and resonant of salt. The heavy fabric of his robes coarse against your skin. His hips against yours. The tip of his tongue against your teeth, drawing you into him.   


"...not." He whispered into your mouth. You breathed his words, letting them sustain you.  


"Why?" Why are you doing this to me? Why can't I resist? Why you?   


"You don't get to ask the questions here." He transferred both of your wrists to one hand and traced patterns on your chest with the tip of one finger, circling your nipples and following the line of your collarbone. The last rational part of you held your head back from leaning in for another kiss. Somehow you got the feeling that he was never going to allow that, to allow you the chance to initiate. "You just do as I say."   


You would do anything. Anything? You were ruining your life for one kiss, and worst of all you wanted more. What kind of a masochist were you?   


"Just...please don't do this to my friends." I can't share you. I can't exist knowing that you could make anyone else feel like this, especially my closest friends.   


"Don't worry. They only interest me half as much as you do."   


"Oh that's reassuring. So when I bore you, you'll just start doing this same thing to Sirius, and to Peter. You'll carve little red and gold notches in your headboard." But at least you'll be the first...   


"Shut up. Don't you think that if I wanted one of them, they'd be here instead of you? You're their anchor. Don't you see? I already have all of them, because you're here."   


"If you ever so much as think about touching any of them, Malfoy, what's left of you after I'm done will fit between two slices of bread."   


He threw his head back and laughed. "For all your brains, Potter, you can be incredibly stupid sometimes."   


He released your wrists and placed his hands on your hips, dropping to one knee and looking up into your eyes. A stroke of his tongue under the tip of your cock and you had to hold your breath to keep from crying out in a mix of surprise, pleasure, and abject terror. Your hands found his head, his hair like thick blond satin tangling in your fingers. Stop. More. I can't. There. Please. I shouldn't. I want to.   


"Malfoy..."   


You wanted to hit him as he looked up at you, smiling salaciously. "I'm sorry. Did you want me to stop?"   


"Yes. No."   


He stood. "Watch for my notes." Retrieving his wand, he left for Slytherin as you stood frozen in your place, erect and aching for him.   


He had branded you. Burned his mark into you with his heat. His kisses left scars deep under your skin. They might someday heal, but they would never fade. He was changing you from the inside out. Forget peeling away those proverbial layers; he had reached into you, torn your heart out of your chest, and was brandishing it over his head like it was the House Cup. After heading back to Gryffindor, robes a strangely heavy weight on your shoulders, you crawled into bed unsettled and had to start reciting charms to yourself to fall asleep.  



	2. II.

If it hadn't been for Remus, you would have slept through Divination the following morning. Wouldn't that have been Lucius's ultimate satisfaction, knowing you were missing class because of what he did to you?  


Anyone else would have been satisfied with your offers of homework and fixing Quidditch matches. How long had he been watching you? The two of you had never spoken to each other in any tone except one of contempt, and yet he knew how to pierce deep into the thoughts you hid from everyone, even yourself. More than the physical pleasure, it was the fire that consumed every inch of your being when he stood to intimidate you. No other challenge in your life sparked what he did. You had no words to describe it, just the swirl of hatred and passion in your bloodstream. You could still taste him, feel yourself in his mouth. Embers of his touch smoldered in the pit of your stomach.   


"James!" came the urgent whisper, and a kick in your shin.   


"Ouch!"   


Remus drew his foot back and leaned over, watching Professor Trelawney out the corner of his eye.   


"What is your problem today?"   


"Nothing. I just didn't sleep well."   


"Pay attention! I don't understand a word of this, and I'm going to need to copy off someone."   


"Why don't you copy off Peter? He's the one who actually knows what goes on in this class."   


Remus raised an eyebrow. "Next time, I'll just let you sleep through."   


"Sorry."   


"Mr. Potter! Mr. Lupin! Have you predicted what we will be learning next, and would you like to share it?"   


"Sorry, Professor." But you thought you heard Remus mutter, "You overgrown glittering bat slave driver," under his breath.   


At lunch, you couldn't eat. Your stomach was in knots and even the water in your glass looked nauseating. You played with your silverware and created sculptures with your mashed potatoes and peas.   


"What's in your bag? James!"   


"Huh?"   


Remus was staring at you again. "Your bag. You keep looking at it like it's going to spew Chocolate Frogs or something."   


"Oh...oh no. No. Nothing's in there." That was the problem.   


"Are you feeling all right?"   


"Fine. Really. Just didn't sleep well." And don't know if I ever will again.   


For weeks Lucius made you wait. You fell right into his trap and let your guard down. Maybe he had just used that first night as a warning, something to keep you in line? No, that couldn't be it. If Lucius Malfoy was anything, it was calculating. He knew exactly what he was doing. Your sense of self nearly drowned in your desire for him, and he knew it. How on earth were you going to survive the year?   


Stop it. Stop it. Stay down. Act normal. Remember to sit on this side of the table at meals, the side that faced away from the Slytherin table. If he wanted to see you, you'd know. Stop checking your bag.   


When the scrap of parchment written in a too-familiar hand demanded your presence one evening, you cursed yourself for even thinking that Lucius would forget about your debt to him. Every nerve in your body fired at once when you opened the note in the privacy of the boys' bathroom, sweat breaking out across your chest. Time never dragged so slowly as it did through classes, dinner, and a study session with Lily.   


"James! Does your watch have the answers to our Charms homework?"   


"Sorry."   


"You're really jumpy tonight. Everything okay?"   


"Fine. Just...having a jumpy day, I guess."   


"Listen, let's wrap things up. You're not in any mood to study; I can tell."   


"No, Lily, it's all right."   


"No, it isn't. I'm going upstairs. See you tomorrow."   


You twisted inside as you watched her leave, red hair swinging over her shoulders. What were you doing? Were you crazy? She was your best friend, your confidante, the one who always cheered you. You had loved her from the moment you met her, though it took years for your friendship to grow into something more. Lucius Malfoy was destroying the best thing in your life...   


...and you were letting him.   


You bore down on the parchment in front of you so hard the tip broke off your quill. You wanted to blame Lucius for this, for taking over your life, but you knew it was at least partly your fault. You hadn't been as discreet as usual the month he'd seen you. Last week, during the full moon, you warned Moony, Padfoot, and Wormtail to be careful, and they looked at you as though you'd sprouted a second head. Sirius laughed, making some teasing remark about your taking on the deer's skittish personality in addition to its body. Weakly, you had smiled. Acted like you agreed with him.   


The whole time, though, Lucius had haunted your thoughts. What if he told anyway? What would happen to your friends? What would it do to your relationship with Lily? Why was he so hard to shake? He had to see the way you looked at him. He had to know that you hadn't slept well since that first night he'd kissed you. He saw you, distracted in Quidditch practice and daydreaming in Potions. Charms was the worst. You saw him sitting at the professor's desk, felt him around you, encapsulating, silk and salt.   


You took his note out of your bag, checking around the common room to make sure no one was looking. This note was interesting. It didn't have a location, but it had a set of directions from Gryffindor Tower. They couldn't be right. They seemed to end at the other end of the school, in the north tower, but it was one of the most indirect routes you'd ever seen. Still, you decided, better to follow the directions and be safe. What was there in the north tower, anyway?   


You said goodnight to the other Gryffindors as they headed to bed, citing something you didn't understand in Arithmancy as your reason for staying up late. At ten minutes to one you left, leaving your Invisibility Cloak in the dorm. That, at least, you could keep secret. Following his directions, you found yourself standing in a small circular room, facing a rope ladder.   


His kiss in greeting was forceful, commanding.   


"You taste like fear, Potter."   


"It's my new toothpaste. Or the fact that you just had me running all over the school to meet you, trying not to get caught. Nice directions."   


"I had to keep you guessing."   


"This is Trelawney's room. Doesn't she sleep up here?"   


"Guess we'll find out. Hand over your wand."   


"What is it with you and my wand?"   


"I don't trust you."   


"Oh, don't even get me started on trust!"   


"Potter, if you don't shut it we're still going to be standing here when your class comes in tomorrow morning."   


Reaching into your pocket, you handed him your wand, which he slipped into his robes. He climbed the ladder and tapped the door with his wand.   


_"Alohomora!"_   


The door opened, and you followed him into the room. As it was during class, the room was warm, though that might have been your nerves. It still smelled of perfume and incense, the air almost too thick to breathe. Professor Trelawney left her fire burning around the clock.   


"Now, let's see. Oh yes. Your robes. It'll be easier if you don't resist so much."   


"What will be easier?"   


"Get undressed."   


The voices in your head began to duel, fighting for reason versus desire, but in ten seconds flat you stood in front of him, nude.   


"Much better than last time. Go sit on that couch over there."   


"Are you just going to stand there and leer at me while I do?"   


"And spread your legs."   


"Too ashamed to get undressed in front of me?" You couldn't believe the stupidity that was reaching your ears, but you were desperate. You could not let him know that you were going willingly, though you were sure he knew the truth.   


"And put your hands on the back of the couch, and if you move them, I will tie you there and leave you for your friends to find tomorrow."   


He followed you across the room. You sat facing the fire, watching the flames dance in place. The light formed a corona around Lucius, highlighting flyaway wisps of his hair. Never taking his eyes off you, he removed his robes.   


His skin glimmered, bending the light into white beams that followed the slight curve of his slender waist and thighs. You hardened watching the fire's glow reflect off the fine blond hairs on his body, like tiny diamonds.   


"Enjoying this, Potter?"   


Too much. "Oh yes, because I always enjoy sitting naked with my legs open in front of someone who hates me."   


"I never said I hated you. You aggravate me, but I don't hate you."   


"You...don't hate me? What do you mean you don't hate me?"   


"Hatred would be wasted on you. You and I are too alike for me to hate you."   


"We're nothing alike! You-you're a Slytherin, and--"   


"Potter!"   


"Sorry," came your whisper as he sat beside you. You were in no position to be defiant, and you both knew it.   


"Look at me."   


It took all the courage you possessed to look into his eyes, winter gray and eerie in the firelight. Every second you held his gaze, your heart threatened to fail you. He held your face, fingers sliding toward the back of your head, thumb on your cheekbone. You tilted your head into his grasp, reaching for the inside of his wrist with your mouth. His scent of rosewood filled your mind, scrambling any reason you had left.   


"I thought you were only here because I forced you."   


"I am." But the way I feel right now...no one could force that.   


"Good. I wouldn't want to think that James Potter, picture of virtue, was here, naked in an empty classroom with me, because he wanted to be."   


"You know I'm only here for Sirius, Remus, and Peter."   


"Are you?"   


You knew the answer. Hated the answer with all you were. Maybe you wouldn't be here if he hadn't found out about the three of you, but now that you were here, you couldn't help but wonder if it was something you might have found on your own. You still wanted to know how he couldn't hate you, and how you were alike, as he said you were.   


"None of your business." Oh, could you have said anything more incriminating?   


"Thought so." He smiled. You almost lost your balance as he pulled your head toward his, his kiss heated and furious. Uncertain, you mimicked his movements. He pulled your lower lip into his mouth with his teeth, biting gently, sending tremors down your spine. How did Lucius know how you liked to be kissed? What else did he know about you? As you moved your arm off the back of the couch, he trapped it in its spot.   


"I meant what I said."   


"Sorry." An attempt to imitate his usual sarcasm failed, and your voice came out too apologetic.   


"Lie down."   


Vertebra by vertebra, you lowered yourself onto your back. He knelt beside you on the floor, restraining one wrist and touching your cheek with the other hand.   


"Close your eyes."   


That was the most terrifying command he had given you yet. You had to trust that he wouldn't hex you, leave you naked and unconscious for the other Gryffindors to discover tomorrow morning. You didn't have an ounce of faith in him, yet you knew you had to obey him. He held your reputation, your honor, your secret, in his hands.   


His eyelashes tickled your stomach as he kissed you down the length of your body. Your hands curled into fists, resisting the need to touch him, to feel more of that inhumanly smooth skin. Raising your hand, he took your fingers into his mouth, kissed your palm, nibbled your wrist. He stroked the inside of your thigh, tormenting you with tiny pinches.   


"Like being out of control?"   


Your breath came shallow, a canticle of lust. Do not speak. Do not move. Do not betray yourself.   


"Well?" Choke back your gasp as he took you in his mouth, steaming and supple. Do not speak. Struggle to hold on to your sanity. Do not move. Keep your hips down, resist the need to thrust as he moved so slowly as to be agonizing. Do not betray yourself.   


"Malfoy...please..."   


He ignored your pleas...your demands...setting his own rhythm in the silence broken only by the crackling fire. Inches from your climax, he drew his head back.   


"No...don't stop." Did you really say that? Did you just beg someone you hated to keep doing something you were not supposed to let him do in the first place?   


"What?" He had to have heard you. He had to know how close you were.   


"Don't stop."   


"You want me to keep going?"   


"Yes! Is something wrong with your hearing?"   


Laughing, he pulled his hair back from his face. Within a minute you came, pride vaporized under his tongue.   


"I get the feeling you were not supposed to like that as much as you did." His words were too loaded, his tone too knowing, the casual way he looked at you too mocking.   


"No." The last thing you wanted to hear right now was his taunting voice reminding you that you were supposed to be anywhere but here. You drew back from him as he ran his hands over your legs and chest.   


"Are you still going to try to convince me that you're only here because of what I've got on you and your friends?"   


"I'm not in a mood to talk." Was he trying to hold a conversation with you? Act like you had done nothing more than share a cup of tea? Don't laugh, though you wanted to do nothing more.   


"But you're going to. The full moon would be a very bad time for me to summon you, wouldn't it?"   


You sat upright, horrified. "You're not going to! You don't understand. I have to be with them!" He wouldn't keep you from Remus, would he? Remus might kill someone. He had to know that.   


"As much as you have to be with me?"   


"There is no 'have to' in this...whatever it is we're doing! I would never be here by choice, and you know it."   


"That may be true, but now that you are, I somehow doubt you're going back anytime soon. The way you begged me not to stop...that was more than just obligation to your friends."   


"Oh you are such a--" Words did not exist.   


"Call me whatever you want, but it's not going to change anything. It doesn't change that you were desperate for me to keep going. It's not so much that you let me, but that you wanted it."   


"I did not!" Oh hell. You did.   


"You did."   


You shoved him away, pacing angrily toward his robes. Taking advantage of your head start, you found your wand, turning on him as he got to his feet.   


"I'm getting dressed, and I'm going back to Gryffindor."   


"Good. That'll give you some time to think."   


"About what?"   


"Your current residence in the state of denial! Wake up, Potter! You're in way over your head, and you're enjoying it."   


"I am not!"   


"And you sound like an eight-year-old."   


"Malfoy, just...leave me alone!"   


"I will for now, but someday soon you're going to have to face the way you feel."   


"But not today." You climbed through the trapdoor, lowering yourself down the rope ladder. Shit. He was right. Why was he always right when it came to you? How did he know so much about who you were and what you wanted? Even Sirius didn't know this much about you. Then again, that was probably a good thing. Sirius. Would he find out? Would he notice? Would he question you? Were you as transparent to Sirius as you were to Lucius? And what was with Lucius saying you were alike, and that he didn't hate you? Hatred was wasted, was what he said. Maybe you could accept that, but you could not accept that the two of you were alike in any way. Wasn't he everything that you hated, conniving and manipulative and...   


...and so damn talented with his mouth.   


This was so wrong. So wrong. This was going to ruin you. Ask yourself, Potter, is it worth it? Could you exist without it? Think of your future. Think of Lily, and Remus, and Peter, and Sirius. Could you balance them with Lucius? Could you? 


	3. III.

"James, something is wrong with you."   


Sirius dragged you away from Remus and Peter in the break between Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts. This hallway was secluded, but he spoke in an impatient whisper.   


"Nothing's wrong with me," you replied.   


Nothing except for the fact that Lucius had summoned you twice this week. You were still stunned from last night, your first...   


_"Lie on your stomach and raise your arms over your head."  
_

He removed the cord binding his hair and wound it around your wrists, right over left. That hair. Cool as it brushed against your back. Up close, you knew it to be a hundred different shades of blond, from platinum to ash.   


"My wand is on the other side of the room. You don't have to tie my hands together."   


"Damn it, James, don't lie to me! Why are you so tired all the time? Why do you spend the entirety of Charms looking at the floor? I know you're not up late studying."   


"Why would I lie to you? You're my best friend." Leaving out the truth wasn't the same as lying, right?   


"Yeah, your best friend. The one who's trying to keep you from flunking Charms!"   


_"No, I don't have to. Nor do I have to listen to you prattle the entire time." Reaching into the pocket of his robes, he produced what appeared to be two large silk handkerchiefs.  
_

"Green and silver. How ever did I guess? What are those for?"   


"Protection."   


"What?"   


He folded one of the silks so it was wide in the center and tapered at the ends.   


"Lift up your head and look away from me."   


"I guess it's just nerves, you know, lots of stress coming up with this being our last year."   


"I'm sorry. Did you expect me to believe that?"   


"Well, yes."   


_As you obeyed, he tied the handkerchief around your eyes. It was warm from his body and carried his scent of soap and his rosewood wand.  
_

"What are you doing? You know, you don't have to do this."   


"Can you see?"   


"No."   


"Keep your head right where it is. Got any last words?"   


"Last words before what?"   


The temperature of your blood shot up twenty degrees as you recognized Lucius's sarcasm in Sirius's laugh. "If that's the truth, then I will stand in front of Remus at the next full moon wearing nothing but a steak. You are so full of it, Potter." He was suddenly solemn. "But James, really, I'm worried. Something strange is going on with you. Oh my-Lily's not pregnant, is she?"   


"No!" Because that would require...oh...   


_A light swish in the air behind you, and you found yourself gagged with the second cloth. You shook your head wildly in protest, but he held you steady.  
_

"Stay still," he commanded, as though you had a choice. What else could you do, blind, mute, and bound?   


"Relax."   


"Then what's wrong? Look, we've been friends for seven years. We've seen each other naked, and with broken bones and bloody noses and bed hair. We've copied each other's homework, hell, our kids are probably going to copy each other's homework. Just, please, tell me what's going on with you. Is there anything I can do?"   


Sirius looked lost, desperate. Through all of it, though, he didn't look away from you. Maybe, just maybe, he would understand. Do you think?   


"Sirius..."   


_Your sarcastic response couldn't quite make its way around the gag, but you turned your head sharply in the direction of his voice. This was absolutely humiliating. Never in your life had you been so out of control, exposed in every way to your enemy. As it always had before, though, a hunger for the pleasure Lucius gave you crept steadily forward. It was an ugly, tormenting sort of pleasure, the kind you got from knowing you were doing something wrong and getting away with it.  
_

"Potter!" His fingers dug into the tight muscles in your neck and shoulders. "Listen to me when I give you an order."   


Remembering this time that the gag was in place, you nodded, resting your cheek on the floor.   


"Breathe."   


"If someone was..." You couldn't tell him. You couldn't.   


"If someone was what?" Sirius trained all his concentration on you, and you could see him calculating your problems, extrapolating, trying to factor everything he knew about you.   


"If you wanted something a lot, but you couldn't have it, or you weren't supposed to want it in the first place..."   


_He raked his fingers through your hair, caressing the back of your neck. There was a slight popping sound, like a cork being removed from a flask, and a minute later his hands, strong and slick, were on your back. You shuddered as Lucius dug hard into the muscles edging your shoulder blades. The oil could be poisonous, but you didn't care. Anything a poison would do to you would be a fair price for this feeling. You relaxed, the weight of your body sinking into the floor. Too soon, he stopped. You protested as the air came cold on your back._   


"...would you go after it anyway?" Well, that was not quite the best way to put it, but at least it was ambiguous. It was enough of an answer to make Sirius leave you alone, wasn't it?   


"I'm not sure I get what you mean. What is this about? Is it...is it about Remus? What is this thing that you're not supposed to want?"   


"Okay, what if there was something that you didn't know you wanted until you were forced to take it and it was the last thing on earth you thought you'd ever want in the first place?"   


_"Quit whining, Potter. It doesn't flatter you." His lips were on your ear, your earlobe in his teeth. It felt better than you thought it was supposed to.  
_

Slowly, he moved away from you. Straining, you heard the rustle of cloth and the click of his wand being set down somewhere. A chill was chased away by the sudden heat of the length of Lucius's body against your own, skin on skin matching curve for curve. You were sure he heard you sigh in the delight you had sworn never to let him know you felt.   


"I suppose asking for your consent would be pointless, especially seeing the way you look at me when you pass me in the halls."   


"You, considerate?" For a moment, you forgot he wouldn't be able to understand you.   


"Damn..." He removed the gag from your mouth. "What?"   


"You're not just going to say to me, 'I'm going to fuck you, Potter?' and be done with it? I can't believe you're asking."   


"Not having any idea as to what you're talking about, I guess I'd keep whatever it was I had, unless it was dangerous. You know, going to seriously hurt me or someone else. Unless maybe that someone was Snape."   


"Oh."   


"Is whatever you have going to hurt anyone?"   


"I don't know." If no one ever found out about you and Lucius then no, technically no one would be hurt. Technically. You bastard. How do you think Lily would feel if she knew? For starters, she'd never speak to you again. And then she'd probably hex you from here to Siberia, after spreading to the rest of the school that the two of you were no longer a couple because Lucius had turned you into his sex toy. Remus, Sirius, and Peter...Lucius might go after one of them, though by this point you were sure he couldn't care less about them. He had you. He had only ever wanted you. The blackmail was just something that made his approaching you easier. It was remarkable, you thought, that Lucius had chosen you over brilliant, sarcastic Sirius, or charming, charismatic Remus. Peter would never have been a target in the first place. He was analytical and understanding, but he didn't always stand up for himself and would never challenge Lucius, who seemed to love nothing more than the hunt. Lucius had mentioned that the two of you were alike. Maybe that was why he hadn't gone after the other two. Lucius and Sirius were similar in ways you could never explain to either of them, but you had Lily, and therefore more to lose.   


_"I don't believe in forcing you into sex."  
_

"But it's okay to force me into everything else."   


"Come off it. We both know you were a lot less forced than you act like you were."   


You spoke the only two words that made any sense in the world anymore.   


"My pride."   


"If I ask you, will you say yes?"   


Yes.   


"My pride."   


"Potter..."   


"James..."   


"Huh?"   


"Can you let me in on your inner debate?"   


"Look, it's really nice that you're concerned, but I'll be all right."   


"Excuse me? I don't think so. You might think no one notices, but I do. I know Remus and Peter do, too. You're a wreck. Are you...is it your family?"   


"Would you keep it if it was going to hurt you but protect your friends?"   


_"Yes. Yes." No! You were betraying yourself to your enemy. You knew the moment the words left you that you had finally admitted to Lucius how you had felt from the first moment he stood in front of you in the Potions lab. Then again, he had always known, even without your words.  
_

"For some reason, Potter, I think you're a screamer." He gagged you again. Your protests were absorbed in the damp silk. Anticipation tightened your legs and back. You felt him straddle your hips, kneeling, anointing both of you with the oil.   


"Relax, or it's going to hurt like hell."   


"As though I could relax when you're--"   


"Quiet!" he hissed. "I can't understand a word you're saying, and you're annoying me. Do as I tell you. You're going to have to trust me."   


"What is it? Did someone send you something cursed? Should we see if we can figure out what it is?"   


"No! I mean...no, we don't need to do that. No one sent me anything cursed. I think this is just something I need to work out on my own."   


"Oh, so there's something you're hiding." Sirius eyed you, half in satisfaction, half in lethal curiosity. You thought about telling him everything, from the broken glass...   


_You forced the tension out of your muscles.  
_

"Better. Do you trust me?"   


Slowly, you nodded.   


"Take a deep breath," he instructed, and as you did, he entered you. You bit down on the gag to keep from waking the entire student body with your scream. The pain was sharp, pinpointed somewhere around your sternum. Tears came to your eyes as you exhaled, accepting him. It was as though he was taking up every spare inch of space in your body, interrupting the very motion of your life.   


...to Lucius knowing your secret...   


_He remained still. "Are you all right?"  
_

In any other moment, you would have laughed yourself sick at the concept of Lucius Malfoy asking you that question, but now, you could only nod as sweat prickled your forehead.   


His voice dropped to the softest whisper. "Good."   


...to the Charms classroom...   


_The floor was unforgiving under your ribs and knees and elbows. Inhale. Exhale. Try to stay calm against the pain. Lose yourself in the sound of his breathing. Savor the warmth of his hands on your shoulders. Pray that he wouldn't take so long._   


_Hours? Minutes? Seconds? He continued to thrust, the speed of his breath your only indication that he felt anything at all. The pain had subsided a little, more like something you became used to than something that was actually pleasurable. There. He was coming, in motions long and determined. Stay absolutely still as he withdrew, leaving you feeling empty and distended._   


...to last night.   


_Neither of you did or said anything as he lay on his back beside you, the ends of his hair brushing your arms. Did he expect you to say something? You were too afraid to move, and you couldn't speak...not that that was the most intelligent thing to do at this point, anyhow._   


But as much as you loved Sirius, you couldn't tell him anything. You looked away from him, down the empty corridor. The two of you were closer than brothers, bound by your secret. Then again, that was the same secret that was allowing Lucius to dismantle your resolve one molecule at a time. If Sirius found out, he would probably hunt Lucius down and go through all the hexes he had learned since first year, and smile as he was kicked out of school. But that wasn't right. Lucius didn't carry all the blame for this.   


_As the blindfold was removed, you resisted looking up at him. You were here out of blackmail, but was it supposed to feel like this? Were you supposed to want more? You closed your eyes, resting your head on the floor again as he removed the cord from your wrists. Your shoulders ached, and you were sure your elbows would be bruised the next day.  
_

What had you done?   


You had cheated, and you felt awful. But you hadn't cheated willingly. Did that make it better? Sirius was waiting for your answer.   


_What had you done?_   


"What have I done?"   


"Done what?"   


"Huh? Oh, sorry, I--it's nothing."   


Sirius sighed, obviously frustrated. "I'm not going to tell Remus or Peter, if that's what you're afraid of."   


"No, it's not, I just--"   


"Don't want to talk about it."   


"No, not especially."   


"What, do you not trust me?"   


"Of course I trust you." Trust. The sound of the word made you nauseous. Trust was what had gotten you into this mess in the first place. No. That was wrong. It was your carelessness, your need to break molds. You were never satisfied with what life gave you and congratulations, Potter, it's now given you more than you can handle.   


"Then tell me what's going on. I won't talk to Remus or Peter if you don't want me to."   


"I can't talk to you about it here."   


"That's fine. Do you want to meet later tonight?"   


"Can't."   


"What do you mean, you can't?"   


["I just...can't."](http://mawaridi.tripod.com/forcedar.html)   


"Why?"   


"Because I'm having sex with Lucius Malfoy in the Potions classroom! What business is it of yours?" A mix of relief and horror tainted your words. Had you really just told him the truth? Of course, the truth was more unbelievable than any lie. In a way, your mind felt cleared, knowing that Sirius now had the reason for the way you were acting, but if he ever did discover that you hadn't just made up some excuse to sound obnoxious, what would he do to you? Would he keep quiet, or tell the others? Would he never speak of it and let the unresolved tension dissolve your friendship?   


Sirius grinned. "You are the worst liar. You couldn't come up with something better than that?"   


"No, sorry." Your heart sank, and you tried to smile. The worst liar. Does he know you're losing all that sleep to save him?   


"Look, whatever you're doing is your business, I guess, but it's killing you. I just thought you might like to talk about it. Remember talking? That thing you do where sound comes out of your mouth?"   


"I remember." You remembered the gag, how sound didn't come out of your mouth. Couldn't. You remembered the flat, dry taste of the silk.   


"Tomorrow, after dinner?"   


"I don't have to talk to you if I don't want to!" What was Sirius's problem? Did he have to be so nosy? You had told him the truth. It was his problem, not yours, if he couldn't believe it.   


Sirius looked as though you had slapped him. "Sorry. I just worry, you know."   


"Go worry about something important, then! Leave me alone."   


"You are important. But since that doesn't seem to matter to you, I guess I'll go." He turned away.   


Look back, Sirius. Look back. Please.   


Damn. 


	4. IV.

So he took you. Had sex with you. Fucked you. In the shower after Quidditch games with your temple against the slippery tile and the hot water coursing down your back. Against heavy oak desks in empty classrooms in the dead of night. In the Restricted Section of the library. Always silent but for the syncopated breathing. Always abandoning you when he was done.  


You were not, repeat _not_ , supposed to enjoy it. But you did. And you became used to it.  


Became used to it. Right. Nice try.  


You looked forward to it. The surge of adrenaline, the taste of Lucius's skin, the way your thoughts of him were like coffee, hot and dark, bitter and stimulating. His aggression. The way he tied your hands together, pulled your head back by your hair so he could bruise your neck with his mouth, shoved you into the floor or forced you over a chair. The lingering pain from your forbidden encounters was better than Quidditch injuries, broken bones sustained, even encouraged, in competition. It made your awakening real.  


They noticed. You couldn't hide it anymore. Lily was frustrated with your reluctance to talk and a lot less eager to kiss you and hold your hand in the hallways. She had taken to studying with her friends or by herself. Sirius, Remus, and Peter stopped talking when you joined them in the library or at the Gryffindor table. Potions, which you had with the Slytherins, was a nightmare. Twice, Sirius had to stop you from melting his cauldron. The mornings after you stayed up to meet Lucius, Remus practically had to carry you up the ladder to the Divination classroom. They acted like everything was business as usual, but there was a tension between the four of you as you talked.  


"Peter, can I see your Divination notes?"  


"Weren't you taking any?"  


"Course I was. It's just that yours are better."  


"Yeah, because I took mine when I was awake." Peter didn't look up from his book, but his words were biting.  


"Well, you know, I'm not exactly a morning person."  


"You're not exactly an afternoon person, either."  


"What's that supposed to mean?"  


"Nothing."  


"Liar."  


"James, I know you stay out nights."  


"I--no I don't!"  


"Oh, please! Just because Sirius and Remus could sleep through a game of Quidditch being played in our dormitory doesn't mean I can, too! You usually wake me up when you come in, and I know that's usually around four."  


"I don't know what you're talking about."  


He sighed. "James, what you and Lily do is your business. I just worry about you, you know."  


Your determination was wearing down. Hiding your whereabouts from your friends was killing you. Just one more day, you kept telling yourself, you just had to make it through one more day. And then what? If it were just a game, Lucius wouldn't have strung you out this far. This was more to him than blackmail. You had known that from the beginning. He was the one that told you that you were the only one with the answer to that question. But what was the answer? What made this more than another one of his mind games?  


And how much time did you have left before you cracked and spilled everything to your friends and Lily?  


Sirius was the one that pressed you for information, sitting at the edge of your bed after the others had gone to sleep, whispering question after question. Were you working on adding to the map? Were you doing research? Had you met another girl?  


"I haven't met another girl. I love Lily. You know that."  


"Well, that doesn't leave a whole lot to be secretive about, then. Are you doing something special for Dumbledore?"  


"No."  


"James..." All Sirius could do was shake his head. He was visibly exhausted and upset, but he also had a stubborn streak. Giving up didn't come easily, if ever, to him. "I'm beginning to think there's no reason we should even be friends anymore."  


"What? Sirius! You--you know that's not the case. Why wouldn't you want to be friends anymore? Did I do something wrong? Think of Remus! He'd...he'd be crushed. Sirius, talk to me. Please. You're my best friend."  


"I mean, here you are. Your grades are falling, you look awful, and your girlfriend's about ready to dump you. And you don't really seem to care about any of it. Something is on your mind. Something big. I haven't forgotten what you asked me, either, about wanting something you weren't supposed to have in the first place. I'm sick of putting up with your crap. I don't know what it is you're hiding, or why you want it so badly, but it had damn well better be something good, 'cause you're ruining your life to have it."  


"I am not ruining my life!" It was difficult to get the words out. You spoke softly, but it felt like you were shouting.  


"If not ruining your life means losing your friends and your girlfriend and flunking out of school, then I guess you're right."  


"You don't know the first thing about anything." And how could you ever begin to tell him, tell him that you had developed a fondness for the sound of Lucius's voice as he teased you until you pleaded for mercy?  


"So straighten me out. Fill in the blanks. I know you're a wreck over something more than just classes or Lily. You're like my brother, James. I can't let you do this to yourself. I'm not going to think badly of you for anything you tell me, and I want to know when this torture you're putting yourself through is going to stop."  


"Sirius, I can't tell you. I--I wish I could, but you'd never understand."  


"Try me." His voice was concerned, and he looked into your eyes.  


"Just...promise me that we're still friends."  


"James, I don't know if I can promise anything right now, especially when I don't have any answers. I can promise to be here for now, but I don't know how much longer that promise is going to be good for if you won't tell me what it is that you're such a mess about."  


You looked at the clock beside your bed. You were late.  


"I have to go."  


"Where?"  


"Away."  


"Away where?"  


"What is this, a knock-knock joke? Away from you and all your annoying questions!" Your head ached, the way it did when you were sleep-deprived. You stood, and Sirius did too.  


"I'm not going to forget."  


"Fine." If he didn't forget, that would be all right. The real question was: Would he forgive? Sirius was right, of course. The two of you had been through a lot together, and you trusted each other with your lives. This, though, was more than your life. This was...you weren't too sure what it was. It was more about what it wasn't: It wasn't something you hated. It wasn't something you suffered through just to protect your friends. Well, not that you had ever really suffered, anyway.  


Should you stay in Gryffindor that night? Whose wrath would be worse, Sirius's when he found out that you were telling the truth about not sneaking out to meet another girl, or Lucius's when you didn't show up? Sirius watched as you left. You moved quickly through the halls and took the most indirect route you could think of to get to the Transfiguration classroom. You couldn't shake the idea that Sirius might follow you and learn everything. Then again, there was the possibility that he might understand. You were doing this for him, for his safety. But how could he ever comprehend how it tore you to pieces, with pleasure, obligation, and hatred all pulling in different directions?  


Curiosity. Frustration. Desire. So many thoughts that just didn't add up, though they were all a part of whatever it was that drew you to Lucius.  


Distrust. Secrecy. Pursuit. Meeting him made you forget you were James Potter: perfect grades, perfect record, perfect bloodline. Like transforming in the forest with Remus, Lucius made you forget about what the rest of the world expected from you.  


It disgusted you to think that you could equate your encounters with Lucius with transforming with your friends every month, but you couldn't help it. Both held a thrill, something that appealed to your rebelliousness. Though you hated to admit it, the uncertainty that pervaded both situations was exhilarating. You lived for the unpredictable, the treacherous, and knowing something no one else did. You liked having secrets, because no matter what anyone thought of you, they could never know exactly who you were. You were never the same thing to any two people. Sirius, Remus, and Peter saw you as their confidante and brother, Lily, her partner, and Lucius, his...his...you didn't want to say the word, or even think it. The dividing line between your lives was wearing thin. You couldn't move from one to the other so quickly anymore, and you were running out of believable lies. Sirius was moving toward the truth, and what if he did discover it? Would he never speak to you again? Would he tell Remus and Peter and Lily? And...would Lucius go after him, too?  


Lucius looked from his watch to your disheveled robes as you ran through the classroom door, out of breath.  


"You're late."  


You wanted to rip that watch off his wrist and stomp on it, but instead you just rolled your eyes.  


"Sorry if Big Ben is a little hard to see out my window."  


"Touché," he said sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.  


"Fuck you! I need about sixteen hours of sleep, I have a ton of homework, and Sirius decided that tonight would be a good time to ask me why I'm so tired and distracted all the time."  


"You're bringing that on yourself."  


"I am--" The word "not" died in your throat. You knew he was right. If these encounters with Lucius were meaningless, you wouldn't think twice about them. You would meet him, carry out his commands, and resume your life. You didn't, couldn't, love him. You couldn't change your feelings toward him. However, you could enjoy what he did to you, replaying scenes over and over in your head to the point where everything else in your life became secondary. And he could play to that.  


He had known. Always known. He knew from the start that this would occupy your mind to the point of your destruction. He was going to win this bizarre game. His prize...what was it? Your resigning to a year, or ten, or possibly a lifetime, of slavery?  


"Malfoy, just get it over with and let me go back to bed. I'm not in the mood to fight you."  


"When have you ever fought me before?"  


"What?"  


"Dumb is not a good look on you, Potter. You know what I asked. Why haven't you ever fought me? Think about it."  


"The only thing I want to think about right now is my pillow. Just...please. Whatever you want me to do, I'm here, let's do it, I want to get to bed."  


"Your enthusiasm thrills me."  


"The idea of getting some sleep thrills me."  


"Then I guess you want to start now, so you can get to bed at a reasonable hour." He smiled, untying his hair, shaking it over his shoulders. As was your ritual, you undressed and held your wrists together in front of you. Lucius had hit you across the face, just hard enough to sting, the first time you taunted him about his need to bind your hands. And the second. And the third. There hadn't been a fourth. You weren't passive, but you weren't stupid, either.  


It might have been your imagination, but he seemed a little less...violent than usual that night. His thrusts were more measured, less feral. You liked the way his breath warmed the back of your neck, as the rest of you grew cold without a fire in the room. The voice of reason in your head shrieked, "No!" as you trembled against Lucius's arms, one wrapped around your waist and the other around your chest.  


As he finished, he stepped back, your knees gave way, and you found yourself in a graceless heap on the floor, one ankle twisted beneath you. Disgusted with your weakness, you sat up, intending to stand, but he held your legs down, sitting with a knee on either side of your thighs.  


"Stay there."  


"Why?"  


He leaned over you. Protecting your space, you pulled back from him, but he kept advancing until the back of your head touched the floor. He looked from your face to your hands, smiling as he raised them over your head.  


A kiss. "Because I'm going..." a kiss, "...to suck you..." a kiss, "...and you're going to do that thing where you damn near bite through your lip..." a kiss, "to keep from screaming..."  


"Malfoy..." a kiss, "...I can't. I have to..." a kiss, "Stop it!"  


"You're beautiful when you bite down like that, you know. It's funny. Here you are, so in control all the time, can't let anyone else know how much you love this, and there's blood on your lips. Your mind and your body aren't very good friends these days, are they?"  


"Beautiful?" The responses of your opposing voices blended like a choir, and you were terrified, disgusted, elated, and hating yourself all in the same chord.  


"And fascinating."  


"Oh, you are sick. Untie me." Beautiful and fascinating. You were near giggles at how preposterous it sounded, and you probably would have burst out laughing if you weren't trying so hard to keep from letting him know how much his words turned you on.  


"In a minute." A kiss. "What, you don't want to know what it is I find fascinating about you?"  


"Untie me now!"  


"Well! Don't we think we're in charge here?"  


"We want to go to bed!"  


"Not yet."  


"What is your problem? Why do you hate me so much?"  


"There's that word again. Hate. You use it too often and in all the wrong places, Potter. If I really hated you, you wouldn't even be here. I'd have broken you in less than a week."  


"Why is that? And can I put my arms down? They hurt."  


"No."  


"Why did you come after me?"  


"If I hated you, I wouldn't bother talking to you. You wouldn't even exist to me."  


"Then why...why are you doing this to me?"  


"I told you that we're alike. Did you think about that? We are, really. We're both ambitious, smart, powerful, loyal--"  


"Modest."  


"--secretive, and neither one of us believes in just taking what life gives us. You always want more, don't you? More than what you've got? Answer me."  


"Yes. But I still hate you." Almost as much as you hated yourself for craving him.  


"If you want to insist on using that word, then fine. But Potter...you know the truth. You don't have to acknowledge it now, or ever if you want to, but there's more to who we are than...oh, I am getting nowhere with this. I might as well be talking to my Potions homework."  


"You know, I'm not really in a position to be a good listener, seeing as how I've got no clothes on and I want to go to bed. Can we have this conversation some other time?"  


You knew what he was saying. You were in no mood to talk about it, but you knew you'd have to think about it, even obsess over it. Things would just be so much easier if he hated you. You could write off your encounters as simple obligation. But now...was it really about obligation anymore? Of course, he would always hold that knowledge over your head, but if it was just sex for silence, why did you always feel that twisted euphoria at the sight of his handwriting? And if he really didn't care, why did there seem to be cracks in his demeanor, like the way he asked for your consent the first time? Were you really beautiful to him? Fascinating?  


"You're more interested in other things."  


He was taking this further than you had anticipated, though you should have known from the minute he told you that all he wanted from you was your pride. You knew it couldn't go on forever. You couldn't live life feeling so raw, or hiding from Sirius, or comparing Lily to Lucius. Sooner or later, it was going to have to end.  


But for now...  


"Yes."  


"Like this..." His kiss was slow and deep, fierce and overpowering. His skin sliding over yours, whispering. He moved backward, pushing your legs apart, circling your cock with his tongue.  


Like that. 


	5. V.

  
Author's notes: The artwork in this fic is by the lovely and talented Mawaridi.  


* * *

_Tonight. One a.m. Divination classroom. -L.M._   


No.  


That couldn't be right. Tonight was... or was it? Yes, yes it was. Remus was never wrong. Did Lucius realize that? He never asked for you during the full moon. There had to be a mistake.  


_Can't. You know why. -J.P._   


Potions was three hours away. It would be your only chance to get the note to him. Hopefully, he would respond quickly. He knew what Remus was, and how dangerous. He had to understand. Didn't he? Absently, you toyed with his note, folding it into a tiny square, sharpening the creases. You ran the edges of the parchment along your fingertips, rolling the corners in toward the center. Quit that. It looks suspicious. Put the note away, and act as you always did. They couldn't know. It took almost all your effort to appear as though your life was normal. Since Sirius had questioned you, you had focused your efforts on not raising his suspicions any more than they already were. Remember to breathe as Lucius wrote a response, which he dropped on your desk as he headed for the potion ingredients shelves.  


_Do I? Be there. -L.M._   


When Sirius turned away, you fed the second note to the fire under your cauldron. Of course you had to be there, but you couldn't be in two places at once. You couldn't run the risk that Lucius might reveal your secret.  


Your thin outer mask of invisible steel, forged of pure instinct to survive, was calm, composed, and laughed a little too easily. It held Lily's hand and smiled at Peter's jokes. It answered questions in classes. It reassured Sirius, though you weren't entirely sure it convinced him, that everything was fine. It aced two Transfiguration tests. Underneath the veneer, there was nothing but the fragments of your circadian clock and the blood on your lower lip.  


How the hell were you going to get out of this one? Too much homework? Fake an injury? Or maybe you could leave early? No, no, they would know something was wrong. Feign illness. It would have to do. Why was Lucius summoning you tonight of all nights? Why couldn't he wait another two days? What had you done to provoke him?  


"Remus, I don't think I'm going to make it tonight." There, it was out. You could lie. Of course you could lie. Weren't you one of the most practiced liars in school? Of course you could manipulate Remus, kind, understanding Remus who would never think twice about asking you to transform when you were sick. Remus whose friendship you didn't deserve. Stop eating. You'll raise suspicion if you eat too much, not that the realization that you were lying to Remus so you could have sex with Lucius didn't make you queasy enough. Think of the ache deep in your shoulders and the cold and damp that never seemed to leave the castle this time of year.  


"You what?"  


"[I-I'm not feeling very well.](http://www.livejournal.com/talkread.bml?journal=mawaridi&itemid=33475#cutid2) I'm kind of tired, and my throat hurts. I don't know if it'd be such a good idea. If I'm not a hundred percent on when I transform..."  


"James, I...well, I guess there's not a whole lot I can do about it, huh? Maybe I'll just go by myself. Might be better, less risk of injury to Sirius."  


"I'm sure Sirius and Peter will be fine alone with you. It's just this once." Were you sure?  


"You want me to walk you to the hospital wing?"  


"No, no. I don't need that. I'll be fine, I just don't know if it'd be such a good idea for me to go out tonight. I'll go to bed early."  


Remus nodded, though it was clear from the expression on his face that he was anything but pleased. He would just have to deal with it. He had transformed without the three of you before, and was going to have to do it again eventually. Maybe Lucius was bluffing about running to Dumbledore, but then again, what if he wasn't? You couldn't take that risk. Looking at Remus, you felt lower than you ever had in your life. You didn't like to see him suffer, but he was also the one at the foundation of your quandary. Remus didn't want to be a werewolf any more than you wanted Lucius to find out. Of course, the fundamental difference was that Remus would give anything for the chance to go one month without transforming, and you...  


You would give anything for the chance to be with Lucius. He couldn't know that, of course, but every now and again, you found yourself wishing that you could just have an hour with him without guilt, without pretext, just pleasure. On one hand, it was a revolting idea, but on the other, the resolution might be worth it. The nagging question was: If you surrendered completely to Lucius, and let him lead without so much opposition, did that mean you had chosen him over Remus, Sirius, and Peter?  


You pushed your plate away from you. No. No, you hadn't chosen. They were two totally separate things. Completely unrelated. You couldn't confess to Lucius. That would be handing him everything he wanted. But at this point, when you were so worn down, so tired of fighting him, wouldn't that be the easiest thing to do? What would Lucius want if you told him that you were willing to go along with whatever he had planned from the moment he first approached you?  


If you went to him tonight, would he know he had won?  


If you went to him tonight, could you admit everything?  


If you went to him tonight, would he always call you at the full moon?  


It would just be this one time that you didn't accompany Remus. Just once was all right, wasn't it? This was all getting to be too much. How could you be entertaining the thought of going to Lucius voluntarily, actually wanting to see the person who made you give up your friends? Why did he mean so much to you? Why did his questions keep you awake at night, his questions of who you were and what you wanted and how you could be so blind?  


Lucius was staring out the window at the snowy grounds when you entered the classroom. He was doing anything but relaxing in the view, standing with his shoulders back and spine erect. He was listening, waiting for you to approach him, to begin.  


"I hate you, Malfoy. You're a disgusting, twisted, heartless bastard whose only happiness comes from making people suffer."  


"Nice to see you too." He turned away from the window, grinning as he reached to untie his hair.  


"Sod off."  


"You kiss your girlfriend with that mouth? Assuming you're still kissing, that is."  


"You know damn well what tonight is, and you called me! I knew you were a sorry excuse for a human being, but this...this is..."  


"This is boring. You're so irritating when you call me names. It's like a fly buzzing around my head or something."  


"Like you've been dead for a day or two. I like that image."  


He affected a yawn. "Melodramatic empty threats, again. Let's see, you've already told me what kind of a person you think I am, and you've threatened me...I think all that's left is your trying to keep silent as you come, and it'll be a night."  


"So you're actually going to let me come this time?" Good job, Potter. Sound petulant and annoying as you admit to Lucius that you like what he does to you. Ten points to Gryffindor. Another ten points if you can ignore the fact that you're aroused at the very thought of what he's going to do to you to make you come.  


"Well, you are here during the full moon. I think your realization of where it is that you really want to be deserves a little reward."  


"Excuse me?"  


"Are you going deaf, Potter, or do you just like the sound of my voice? Think about it. It's a full moon. Lupin and Black and Pettigrew are off somewhere being fuzzy, and you're here. It's pretty obvious to me where your loyalties really are. Did you lie to them? Did you tell them you were sick, or that you had too much homework, or-"  


There wasn't time to go for your wand, or even to think. Your fingers curled, and you swung. Your aim was perfect, and Lucius stumbled backwards.  


Nothing was left of you but anger as you ran at him, your fist to his jaw, his stomach. Your punches were honed on the accuracy of his words and the knowledge that you had crossed a breaking point. Together, you tumbled to the floor, and you landed on top of him. He looked up at you, blood at the corner of his mouth, hands tensed at his sides.  


"You're not going to hit me back, Malfoy?"  


He smiled. Of all things, he smiled. His gaze shifted, and in a movement faster than you expected, he grabbed your collar and pulled downward and to his right. The fabric at the back cut into your neck and the front gave way, ripping along the buttons. You stared at him, shocked, as the sound of the buttons bouncing on the stone floor echoed off the walls.  


"Shit!"  


"Language, language."  


"I only have three sets of robes! What am I supposed to do now?"  


"Get your girlfriend to sew the buttons back on."  


Lucius grunted in surprise as you hit him across the face with all the weight of your rage. He raised a hand, running it along his cheek and jaw, checking for blood under his nose.  


"Ooh, getting defensive now." There was a strained tone to his words, like for once he was the one struggling to maintain composure. Finding that you had cut his lip, he took your hand, kissing it. He smiled as you felt your face contort into a look of revulsion.  


"Leave Lily out of this. This is between you and me."  


As you moved back, he hooked his legs around yours. Both of you were breathing hard, and your own fury nearly blinded you as the cold air came around the opening in your robes.  


"Well, it's about time you figured that out."  


"What do you mean by that?"  


"Come on, Potter. This isn't about the Mudblood, or Black, or Lupin, or Pettigrew. It never has been, and it never will be. You're smarter than that. Use that brilliant mind of yours for once."  


"But I'm not..."  


"But you're not what? Supposed to like what I do to you? Too late to hide that. You lost that the first time I did this." Guiding your head toward his, he kissed you gently. His lips were as soft as they had been the first time, tasting of copper and pumpkin juice. You shouldn't be doing this. It shouldn't feel so good, and Lucius shouldn't be reading your mind. Why did this of all things have to erase everything you were and reduce you to nothing better than a willing slave? The thought disturbed you, even through your veil of pleasure.  


Whisper. "No."  


You were weary, drained both mentally and physically from the late nights and your constant resistance. You needed answers from Lucius, answers you knew he had. It seemed like he was willing to give them to you, but you were too afraid to ask for them for fear of the cost. What did he want from you in return? He had never denied that there was more to his approaching you than blackmail. What were you to him? What purpose did you serve in his life? The answer had to be right in front of you.  


If you did give him the satisfaction of admitting how he made you feel, what would happen next? There was only one way to find out...Â…  


Tired of challenging him at every turn, you pried your legs away from his and lay beside him on the floor, propping your head on your hand. Your words were edged and breathless, like someone was pressing on your solar plexus.  


"Fine. You win. I'm yours, Malfoy. Do whatever you want to me."  


"Oh, I'm going to do that anyway." He was interested now, turning on his side to mirror your position. "But let's start with the given. I say we're alike. You say I'm arrogant, accompanied with your choice of insults. Why?"  


"Because you think that you're above everyone else here just because you've got money and your last name's Malfoy. You think you can do whatever you want."  


"And you don't think you can do whatever you want?" He sat up for a moment and removed your glasses, placing them on a low, nearby table.  


"No, I don't!"  


"Yet you taught yourself to become an Animagus, and you sneak out all the time, and you're lying to your friends about where you are tonight. You're a hypocrite, telling me that I think I can do whatever I want when you live to break rules. That said, why should I think that we're anything alike?"  


You were silent for a moment, his words filling your mind. Lucius couldn't be right, but he was, and you both knew it. His fingertips trailed over your shoulder, raising a sensation that ran simultaneously hot and cold.  


"So, what happens when you break rules and get caught?" he asked, bringing his head closer to yours.  


"I wouldn't know. I've never been caught." Even you knew that those words had no depth. Did you think he was going to let you get away with that?  


"Then why are you here?"  


"Fine. I get in trouble."  


"Very good." He rewarded your answer with a kiss on your forehead. "Now, what happens when you get in trouble?"  


"Detention."  


"Think more general. Consequences. Sometimes your consequences consist of having to clean the Potions lab without magic, and sometimes," he stroked your cheek and down your neck to your chest, "sometimes they're a little more fun. Not that you and your famous pride could ever admit to liking them."  


Before you could stop yourself, you whispered, "Haven't you taken enough of my pride already?"  


"What was that?" Tilting your chin upward, he made you look in his eyes.  


"You heard me."  


"Obviously, I haven't taken enough if you're still singing the 'I'm doing this for Lupin' song."  


"You think I'd be here on my own if you'd never come to me in the first place? I don't ask to get detention, and I certainly didn't ask for this! I am here to keep you from getting my friends kicked out of school!"  


"Are you? I don't think so. I think you're trying to make excuses. And to be honest, I'm getting tired of hearing those same words from you every time you meet me. Every time you use them, they sound a little less honest."  


"That doesn't make them any less true!"  


With an exasperated sigh, he dropped his hand. "Enough. I don't want to hear it anymore. You're wasting my time."  


"No, wait!"  


Lucius raised an eyebrow.  


"What do you want from me?"  


He exhaled and smiled. "An answer, to start with."  


"What's the question?"  


"Are you willing to go along with what you feel, and take what I want to give you? Can you stop being so in denial of how much you love this, and stop mouthing off to me every chance you get in your attempt to make your feelings go away?"  


"You know I couldn't. I mean...if I did that, you know..."  


"I know that you'd be a hell of a lot less annoying, and maybe," he kissed you softly, his lips lingering on yours as he spoke, "you'd feel better. Maybe sleep a little better,Â…endearing as I may find the sight of you falling face-first into your breakfast."  


You couldn't confess, couldn't give him the upper hand even more than he already had. Distract him. That would work. You wove your fingers into his hair, returning his kiss. For the first time, you advanced, entering his mouth with your tongue. After a minute, he pulled away, moving to turn you on your back.  


"Not yet, Potter. You haven't earned it."  


Did you want to earn it?  


The moonlight filling the room from the west window made [Lucius](http://www.livejournal.com/talkread.bml?journal=mawaridi&itemid=33475#cutid3) look as though he were all one color. The promise of a bruise shone on his left cheekbone.  


"That's going to be some shiner. Can't wait to see what the rest of the Slytherins have to say about that one."  


"Can't wait until they ask."  


There was no figuring him out. But then, how much did you really want to know? Lucius had always seemed so sadistic and one-dimensional before, only out for blackmail and personal gain. Through your conversations, he was gaining facets, new aspects of who he was. He was...perceptive. He always seemed to know the things you wouldn't even admit to yourself, and he never hesitated to let you know that he knew them.  


Before you had a chance to dress after sex, he left. Pulling your robes around you, you walked slowly, quietly, back to Gryffindor, contemplating his words.  


_"Sometimes they're a little more fun."_   


You knew he was right. What if you accepted it? There was no sense in hiding from yourself. And you knew you weren't hiding from Lucius, not anymore.  


_"You're a hypocrite...You live to break rules."_   


Wasn't that what you'd been hiding from all along, the thrill of knowing that Lucius was a rule to be broken? All the elements were there: the desire, the guilt, the knowledge that he filled a need of yours that--  


"Oof!"  


"Sorry, I--" Sirius. Of all the people to collide with.  


"James! What the hell are you doing out?"  


Think fast. "Lily and I...we went out. It's our anniversary. We were...well, you know. Almost got caught by Filch. We had to split up so he could only follow one of us."  


"Is that how you tore your robes?"  


"Er, yeah."  


Sirius said nothing, did nothing. The two of you stared at each other in uncomfortable silence until he spoke, his words venom and iron.  


"You had to go out with Lily tonight? You couldn't have waited two days and spent tonight with Remus? He needed you, James."  


"I know, but..."  


"But what? [What the fuck is wrong with you](http://www.livejournal.com/talkread.bml?journal=mawaridi&itemid=33475#cutid4), to make you act like you're sick and can't be with Remus, and then sneak out with Lily?" You had forgotten the lie you had told Remus. Sirius hadn't. Your lungs felt like they would burst, but you did your best impression of honesty.  


"Sirius, I promise, it was just this once."  


"Do you really think I don't know you well enough to know you're lying?"  


"I...I..."  


"Shut up. Just...don't talk. I can't talk to you. If I talk, I'll start screaming."  


"Sirius, let me explain. I-"  


"No. Just. Don't. Talk." He turned to the portrait. "Chrysalis."  


The portrait swung forward, and you followed him into the common room. He stopped, surveyed the room, and looked at you curiously.  


Lily sat in a chair by the fire, not a hair out of place, reading a book.  


"James! Sirius! What are you two doing out so late? James, what happened to your robes?"  


To your astonishment, Sirius turned on the charm. "We were out testing those new Cleansweeps they just bought."  


"In the middle of the night?"  


"Only time we could avoid running into the Slytherins. James took a wrong turn into some trees."  


She smiled and shook her head. "Somehow, I'm not surprised. You two going to bed?"  


"Yes," you said, before Sirius could answer. "You?"  


"I can't sleep. Woke up about half an hour ago. I'm going to stay up and read a little more. No better cure for insomnia than Arithmancy, you know."  


You smiled. "Except maybe Ancient Runes." As Sirius headed up the stairs to the dormitory, you walked over to Lily. You kissed her, hoping she couldn't smell Lucius on you. "Good night, sweetie."  


"James?"  


"Yes?"  


"I'm sorry that things haven't been going well for us lately. Do you maybe want to just spend a night together, just us?"  


Knowing your luck, it would probably be a night that Lucius wanted to see you, but you smiled. "I'd like that." As you spoke the words, you cursed yourself. You would go to Lucius if he called, wouldn't you? You would make excuses to Lily, the way you did to Remus. The fact that you loved and adored Lily was taking a back seat to your lust, your need to disobey.  


"We'll work out a time?"  


"Yes." You kissed her again, stroking her hair. It felt odd to the touch, coarse and heavy compared to Lucius's. "Good night, Lily."  


"'Night."  


You climbed the steps to the dormitory, and as you turned a curve in the spiral stairs, Sirius jumped at you. He pushed you against the wall and covered your mouth with one hand to stifle your yell. Wonderful. First Lucius pushed you around, and now Sirius. In your fatigue and confusion you were almost tempted to take a fist to Sirius, but you held back.  


"You are going to tell me where it is you were tonight, and why, and with who, and what you did, and if you lie to me, Lily is going to know."  


Unable to help yourself, you laughed at the irony. You were being blackmailed for your blackmail. Sirius, infuriated at your laughter, took his hand off your mouth and held you tightly by your arms. The pain of his grip was dull compared to the way Lucius held you.  


"You smell like wet dog."  


Clenching his jaw, Sirius pulled you six inches away from the wall and slammed you back into it with surprising force. Stars came to your eyes, and you felt dizzy for a moment.  


"Do you want me to ask you again?" His eyes narrowed.  


"Sirius, I can't tell you."  


"Why? What could possibly be more important during a full moon than Remus?"  


"Keeping Remus safe."  


"What?"  


"I-I can't give you all the details, but trust me, this is for Remus's own good."  


"Trust you? You sneak out nights, blow us off during the full moon, and for weeks you looked like you were going to flunk out of school. Not to mention the fact that Lily almost broke up with you, and now you two are fine. And you want me to trust you?"  


You bit your lip. Could you tell him? If you did, would he believe you? Questions didn't matter now. He had you cornered. Maybe if you told him the truth, he would think it so bizarre he would just laugh it off. Take a deep breath.  


"Sirius...what would you do if someone found out about...us?"  


"Us?"  


"The transformation." The words came at light speed, because you knew if you spoke any slower you'd never get them out.  


Even in the dark, you could see the color leave his face. "You're lying."  


"Am I?"  


He loosened his grip, but his hands didn't leave your arms. "No. No. Someone really knows? Who is it?"  


"I can't tell you."  


"You're going to."  


"No. Let that one go."  


"James! Someone knows about us?"  


"Yes."  


"And you're not going to tell me who? What is wrong with you?"  


"If I tell you, things would just get worse. They'll make it harder on me, and they might go after you. I can't risk that."  


"Make it harder on..." Realization registered in his eyes. "You're...you're being blackmailed," he breathed. "Someone...oh my...they know about us and Remus, and they're going to tell Dumbledore unless you do what they want, right?"  


If you opened your mouth, you would be sick. Instead, you nodded. Sirius looked as though he might be sick himself.  


"But why you? Why not me, or Peter?"  


"I don't know." What was one more lie?  


"Who is it?"  


"I told you, I can't tell you."  


"What do they want from you?"  


Push away the images of Lucius, nude and glowing in the light of Professor Trelawney's scented fire. "They want me to do their homework for them."  


"Why don't they just copy yours?"  


"Because they're taking two classes that I'm not. I have to do the homework for those classes, too. That's why...that's why I was so tired all the time, trying to keep up in all my classes plus theirs." This was too easy. It felt like your heart was going to fall through your stomach as Sirius nodded.  


"We've got to get you out of this."  


"No! I mean, they'll get suspicious and I don't want to make things worse."  


"Do you think we should tell Peter and Remus?" His voice weakened with every sentence. The impact of your dilemma was sinking in.  


"What good would that do? No. Don't tell them. Let me deal with this."  


"Are you going to be all right? Do you need an extra hand with any of their assignments?"  


"You can't get involved in this, Sirius. Please. Just...let me deal with it."  


"I don't like this at all."  


"I didn't say you had to."  


"How long is this going to go on?"  


"I don't know. Could be all year, could be the end of next week." Sirius let go of you, dropping his hands to his sides. "I can deal with it. I promise. But listen. I know you, and I know that if I tell you who's doing this, you're going to go after them, and you might get kicked out of school anyway."  


He nodded and turned away. You followed him toward the dormitory, enjoying the nauseating exhilaration of having achieved a balance between truth and lies. Things were looking up with Lily, your explanation to Sirius satisfied his curiosity, and you could keep seeing Lucius.  


Sirius stopped at the top of the stairs and turned around.  


"James?"  


"Yes?"  


"The truth: How did you tear your robes?"  



	6. VI.

  
It is late December, that time of year when the sharp air seems to weigh less on your lungs and the wet cold of the snow clings to your skin. You left Hogwarts last June, almost a year and a half ago now, but the notes still come, now in parchment envelopes delivered by owl to your desk at work. This one seems heavier in your hands, thicker, like you know something more than what's written on the paper and it weighs you down with the implications. Every rise and fall on the uneven surface is a memory, the thread of ink spelling your name a command. It's been at least a month since Lucius last called you. You hold the letter steady as you break the wax seal, snorting softly to yourself. He _would_ send you a summons sealed with the Malfoy crest.  


_J.P.-  
_

It has been too long, hasn't it? Did you think I've forgotten? You're still mine, you know, and I'll do as I please with you. Tomorrow night. One a.m. Be on time, and don't Apparate. I did not appreciate that stunt you pulled last time, setting off the alarms around my front gate. You should know better.  


-L.M.  


He drugs you with promises, the highs as suicidal as the lows, and you feed your addiction on his lips, his voice, the way his hands slide smoothly down over your waist. Thoughts of him keep you awake, make you toss and turn in your bed next to Lily.  


Lily.  


You had patched things with her. It took a lot of fast-talking and enough flowers to choke a hippogriff but you did it. She accepted your apologies, and later, your proposal. You've gotten too good at hiding, on surviving on no sleep. It's nothing short of a miracle, you know, that no one's found out the exact truth. Deceiving everyone outside of Sirius, Remus, and Peter was never anything you thought about too much, but this is a new stage of life. That Saturday night, you brush Lily's hair back from her cheek as she sleeps. She doesn't stir as you hold her for a moment, kissing her before leaving to toss the Floo powder into your kitchen fire. As you pull your elbows into your sides, your thoughts spin with the passing fireplaces. You have to make it stop. This is no way to live, with the agonizing need for Lucius's touch drawing your reserves of determination empty. You know what it would take for him to release you from your obligation, and you're supposed to want to give it to him, but you don't.  


You have to believe that he will spare you. All you can do now is wait, standing in front of him in the center of his library. He will make that decision now. As easily as he can bring you to his lips, he can leave you for dead among dusty, brittle volumes of parchment. Can you finally confess? Can you stop wearing the mask, stop pretending to be so ignorant of what you've known since that night in the Divination classroom? All he wants is for you to say it out loud. There is something that feels final about this encounter, like something important will happen and your blood knows it before your mind does.  


"Evening, Potter."  


Lucius's small library is warm and brightly lit, with white candles burning in wall sconces. He sits at the desk taking notes on a thick book, and though his shoulders draw back when you appear, he doesn't look up.  


"Malfoy."  


"Are you just going to stand there and stare, or are you going to undress?" You focus on the way his thumb and forefinger form a circle around the tip of the quill as he makes notes in the margins and resist your desire to reach over and yank the quill from his hand. You hate this. You hate the way he acts like he couldn't care less if you were there or not, as though you're not just as much a part of him as he is a part of you.  


"How about you answer my questions this time?"  


"Well, I suppose I could use a laugh."  


You have to ask. You need an end...or a beginning.  


"What if..."  


He pauses and looks up, but doesn't lower his quill. "What if..."  


"What if I..." You run your fingertips over the polished desk, following the swirling grain of the wood. "What if I did go along with what you wanted? What if I...took...what you want to give me?"  


That gets his attention. He puts the quill down and removes his reading glasses. "Are you telling me that you might finally have the balls to say what you've been thinking all this time? You know what would interest me, but I'm not going to say it for you."  


You remain silent. The words are in your head. All you have to do is put them in the right order and speak them. What will happen if you do? Of course he's not going to say it for you. Your pride. He wants to hear you say the words, to admit your place.  


"I like this. I want it."  


"This? I'm afraid I don't get what you're saying."  


"This...what you do to me. How you..."  


"How I what?" He rises from his chair, moving to stand just inches too close. Your first instinct is to back away from him, but your confession has bolstered your strength, and you stay in place.  


"How you touch me, and...and what you do to me. But Malfoy, just because I like it, that doesn't mean I can go along with it. That would mean I'd--"  


Lucius grabs your wrist so hard you think he will break it, forcing you backwards, trapping you between the wall and the cherry grandfather clock. Your heartbeat subdivides the heavy pulse of the pendulum. Time vibrates along your spine. Holding your hands over your head, he breathes into your face. You close your eyes, turn your head, avoid his gaze.  


His intonation is low and certain, fueled by his anger at your pathetic protest. You almost wish he would yell at you. "I'm sick of hearing about what you can't do, Potter. Is there anything you can do except annoy the shit out of me? Open those pretty blue eyes and look at me."  


You obey, though it takes a lot more courage than you would have thought. He doesn't speak for a moment.  


"Nothing is going to change. Not on the outside, anyway."  


"What do you mean?"  


"Did you think that if you finally admitted that this is something you want, that I wouldn't call you here anymore? That I'd forget, or let you go just like that? Wrong. We're just getting started."  


"And where are we starting from?"  


"Oh, please. Do I have to feed you all the answers? Think! What have you always wanted? Why are you really here, and why do you climb out of my fireplace with a look in your eyes that's totally different from the one on your face?"  


"I don't know."  


Lucius's grasp on your wrist tightens.  


"Don't be such an idiot."  


"Let go of me!" You try to pull your wrist away, but for every ounce of your resistance he has two of his own tenacity.  


"No! I am tired of your whining and your protests and your--"  


"So let me go!"  


"What would be the fun in that? Besides," he lowers his voice, "you'd be the one who'd be sorry I let you go."  


Damn him. "You're right. I do know." Look into his face. "Malfoy, I want...to see you. Without all the games and the lies and my mouthing off." Say the words. Come on. You can't be afraid of little things like words. This is the person who's bruised you, bled you, blindfolded you. He knows you can't hate him because in all regards except for one, you are very much alike. That's the final piece. He wants you to put it in place.  


"And you'd be here because?" A new light shines in his eyes. He knows you know. He's going to make you say it. He wants to hear you confess and use the one word you hate above all others. You can't. It would resolve so much, but it's the only thing you hold over him. He sees the way you bite your lip, and the way you've grown quieter in these last few months.  


"Because I couldn't say no to you. No, because I don't want to say no to you. Because I want to be here."  


The stranglehold of guilt disappears. You let the last remnants of your pride slip away, bit by bit. It's been your harsh sunlight, illuminating what you need to see only after it blinds you. Lucius is definitely intrigued, but he still holds you against the clock, not relieving the pressure on your arms. Is any answer you give ever going to be what he wants to hear? You want, no, need to hold on to the last bit of ego you possess, that one word, but you know he's not going to let you.  


"There's more." He presses his hips into yours, his words melting on your cheek.  


"You want more?"  


"Always, James."  


"Did...did you just call me James?" Astonishment makes your voice sound hollow.  


He leans in, kissing you lightly and drawing a line to your earlobe with his tongue, pausing to bite gently. "Yes, James, I did, and you've finally admitted that you like what I do to you. It's about damn time. There's more, though, you know, so I'm asking: What else there is that you have to tell me?"  


"I don't need to tell you. You already know."  


He releases your arms and you instinctively rub your wrists, curling and extending your fingers. "Maybe I do." He pulls you toward him and he kisses with his entire body, making full contact with yours. You reach around him, and he slides a hand up your chest and around the back of your neck as he breaks the kiss. "Think about it. Wouldn't you give anything for just one moment to be who you really are, without feeling like you're here under the pretense of protecting your furry friends? Wouldn't you like to drop this game we play, where you come here because you want to believe I'm blackmailing you?"  


Force the word, the volume, the denial. Fail. "Yes. But how do I know you're not going to reveal my secret anyway?"  


"Potter!" Lucius curls his fingers, digging his nails into your skin. "Will you ever see?"  


"See what?"  


"I guess you won't."  


"Wait! I won't what?"  


"You really don't see it."  


You do, but how could you give up? Why do you insist on being so stubborn? Where's it gotten you? He shouldn't have to tell you everything you already know so well. "No. Malfoy, I..."  


"You what? Stop that helpless act and your goddamn whining and spit it out." His words are so light, but betrayed by the pain in the back of your neck. "I thought you listened to what I said to you. But you...you need to be shown. Words don't cut it with you."  


"Shown?"  


The look on his face fades from anger to thought, his eyes focusing first on you, then on something to his left, then back to you.  


"Strip."  


He watches you appreciatively as you slide buttons through their holes, discarding your robes. A draft comes through the window, and you shiver for a second.  


"Kneel."  


"What?"  


"On your knees, and shut your mouth."  


In a blistering rush of exhilaration and shame you kneel at his feet, as though to pray, or atone for your sins. You keep your eyes straight ahead.  


When he turns his wrist and the candle wax drips on your collarbone, down over your chest like hot poison rain, you draw on a will you never knew you had to keep from screaming. He holds the candle too close purposely to keep the temperature of the wax high, and you think once or twice that the flame touches your skin, but you don't open your mouth. Your scream is just what he wants, and you can't give him so much satisfaction. Not all at once.  


"So tell me..."  


Splatter. Left shoulder. Silence.  


"Doesn't this excite you?"  


Splatter. Right shoulder. Silence. The sensation is sharp at first, stinging, but it gives you a pain-to-pleasure rush of energy. Instantly, the wax begins to cool, and a mild numbness sets in at the site of the burn.  


"Do you think I would like to be in your position? That I would get the same pleasure you do from being where you are?"  


Splatter. Down your back. Silence.  


"Do I look like I'm interested in answering these questions myself?"  


"Yes! I mean, no."  


"Isn't this where you love to be? On your knees, burned, telling yourself you're not supposed to be here, or care? You're thinking about the way it's going to sting when I kiss those burns, aren't you?" It's not a question, but a statement. "Or maybe about the way I'm going to spread you over my desk when I'm through with this and use you like the slut that you are."  


Any retort you may have had dies in your head with that image. You feel your stomach contract, and Lucius glares down at you, lifting your chin so you can see his eyes. He's not going to let you go, because he knows what you're holding back.  


"We are alike, except for one thing. As much as you like receiving pain, I like to give it to you."  


"I'm not surprised." It's not even worth it to protest.  


"Shut up," he snaps. "Or do you like it when I order you around like that?"  


"I'm sorry."  


"No you're not. You go against me hoping I'll punish you, because that's exactly what you want." He laughs a little, shaking his head. "I'm the only one who's ever caught you in one of your deceptions, and you're a little masochist, milking the punishment for all it's worth. Of course, since you like to call me a sadist, I suppose that works out fairly well."  


Sadist and masochist. Dominant and submissive. The roles separate you at the same time they bring you together. One is not defined without the other, as...as Lucius defines who you are by being everything you hate to admit about yourself.  


"I don't--"  


"It's proof, James. You think you can hide what you think from me by not saying it, but with the way you act, it doesn't matter what you say. We'll never be alike in that regard, that I," he smiles triumphantly, "am the one who owns you. YourÂ…"  


"Master." You hate that word, hate it, and you don't think you'll ever be able to say it without it tasting bitter in your mouth, no matter how much Lucius is a part of you, no matter the pleasure.  


"And you are?"  


"Your slave." Your face grows hot when you speak the word, humiliated. Another word comes into your mind, a single thought from all those months ago, from your first night in the Divination classroom. "Your ambitious slave."  


He watches you, still as stone. "Ambitious?"  


"Smart. Powerful. Loyal. Always wanting more from life." The words that haunted you for years are now a haze in the air between the two of you.  


"So?"  


Your knees are aching, and the muscles in your thighs are growing tired, but you're determined not to move from your spot. "Those areÂ…that's what you first said to me, about why we're alike. You knew."  


"Of course I did. But if you know it, and are willing to admit it...that makes a difference. Do you really know it, though? Believe it?"  


"Yes." You raise your head, your words steady, your gaze unwavering. "I do."  


"Stand up."  


Silently you obey, half erect in need and knowing Lucius loves the sight of you like that. He doesn't say anything for a minute, but reaches to scrape away some of the cooled wax.  


"Don't you feel better, finally starting to get past all that denial?" He tries to sound gentle, but there's still a note of his power over you.  


"Denial? Right. This from the one who can't bear to face me during sex. Always takes me from behind." Damn it, Potter. You will never learn.  


"Can't bear it?" A kiss, and a laugh that's more air than voice. "As though you could bear to look at me."  


"I could bear it just fine." There's too much bravado in your statement, the dying echo of your ego.  


"Could you? You really think you could stand that, looking up and knowing it was me instead of the Mudblood who was," a kiss, "making you shriek in that pain you love so much? Making you cover yourself," his breath in your ear, "in your own come? Not being able to pretend that it was anyone except me who had you gagged and on your hands and knees?" When you don't respond, he turns you around and twists your arm behind your back, sparing no gentleness.  


"You're going to have to do better," you grunt through the pain, "than twisting my arm."  


"Oh, I've already done better than that," he says. "I mean, isn't it me you think about all the time? Isn't it me you think about when you lie awake next to her? What would you do if I called for you on your wedding night?"  


"Even you're not that heartless."  


"Enough with the name-calling." Lucius loosens his grip on your arm but doesn't release you. "The point is that you would meet me, wouldn't you?"  


"No!" Let him taste your blood, blackmail you, anything he wanted as long as he didn't touch the people you loved. He was not going to ruin what you had with Lily. You break away from his grasp and turn to face him.  


He shakes his head slowly. "This is going to take more time than I have. You'll never understand."  


"Yes I will."  


"Really? I don't believe you."  


"I'm standing here naked in front of you covered in candle wax and you don't believe me?" You shout, and your frustration feeds his calm.  


"Such a temper you have."  


"Malfoy, listen." You close your eyes for a second, focusing your thoughts. If you lose control, you'll be right back where you started. "I... You're...you're right. I couldn't have faced you, knowing that I..."  


"That you..."  


"Wanted it."  


"I know." Of course he knows.  


"Now what?"  


"Say it again."  


"I wanted it." It's easier to say the second time. "What--what do you want now?"  


Temptation twists his face for a moment, but his request is unexpected. "I want you to kiss me."  


"What?"  


"Kiss me. Willingly."  


When you do, it's fast and unsure, as though you were twelve years old again and hiding behind the broom shed with that girl from your Transfiguration class. Lucius grabs your arms.  


"Not even close, James. Don't try to pull that vulnerable act. We both know you're not."  


A challenge, and isn't this the hardest one yet? Anything you've done in the past doesn't matter now. There's never been intimacy, nothing resembling consent. Your hands settle in the bends of his elbows, on the pulse points, and for a minute you can only bring your mouth to within an inch of his. Where will this take you? The tendons in his forearms tighten under your fingers; your heads tilt at opposing angles. Time seems to slow as, hesitating, you wet your lips and kiss him softly moments after you close your eyes. The guilt, the ecstasy, the pain and memories and lust and need, they come as a flood as Lucius allows you to taste his mouth, allows your mind to fill in the blanks in the way you sense him.  


A split second before the tension forces you away, he moves to hold you by the small of your back.  


"Perfect."  


"I..."  


He places a finger on your lips, and you breathe his aroma of rosewood. "No words. Don't you understand now?"  


As much as he's always known, you've always understood. How he knew to go after you and not one of the others. How long he's waited for you to cross this line, overcoming your stubbornness and denial and pride.  


"Yes, but now...now what?"  


"Now the game is yours."  


"What?"  


"You can take what you've always wanted."  


"A pony?"  


For the first time in months, he strikes you across the face, and you know you'll bruise from where his signet ring hits under your cheekbone. "Are you just unhappy unless you're in pain? Do you like the way it distracts you from thinking about me?"  


You draw a breath for a sarcastic retort, but stop before forming the air into words. No. Not when you've waited this long, when it's taken you all this time just to gather the courage to tell him how much you like the way he controls you. For such a long time you hated him because he was the one aspect of your life you couldn't control, but you see now that hatred was never really the right word.  


"No. I'm sorry."  


"I don't want or need your apologies."  


"Malfoy, just because I...I told you that I like what you do to me, that doesn't mean I trust you."  


"I never wanted your trust, either. You are a hopeless Gryffindor, aren't you?"  


"We're not in school anymore."  


"Does that mean you're still not supposedly brave? Though with the amount of time it took you to tell me something so simpleÂ…"  


"It wasn't that simple."  


"No, because the truth hurts, doesn't it?" He leans over, tracing around your ear with the tip of his tongue. "You couldn't admit who it was you really were," a trail of light kisses down your jawline.  


"I couldn't."  


"But now you can." Another kiss, on your throat.  


It is the first night you extend your hands without reservation, without the false armor of obligation. You know now that he would never betray you, because he needs your presence in his life as much as you need his in yours. It is the first night your breathing synchronizes with Lucius's, matching cadence, expression, and peak. The candles on his bedside table cast shadows on his face as you lie on your back underneath him, your knees drawn into your chest. Though he chooses not to bind you, you still raise your arms over your head. He breaks his silence for the first time as he comes, your name uniting with his gasp.  


That was the last time he called for you. Lucius never gave a reason, but he didn't have to. In your own way, you understood. It wasn't that you didn't need each other, but his need to make you see who you were and why he had chosen you was fulfilled. You could never work up the nerve to send him a letter, but sometimes you would seek out a place where you could smell roses, or lie on your stomach in bed with your wrists crossed one over the other. Both of you would protect your secrets, each one precious like gold, and these secrets would sustain you to the end.  



End file.
